


The soul of insects

by Basorexia



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 07:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19848142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basorexia/pseuds/Basorexia
Summary: After the events of It runs in the Family, Deathstroke go to Wayne to claim the second part of his payment, and offer to his new toy an overview of what the rest of his life is going to be.





	The soul of insects

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this short fic was inspired by holybatman1234 from her/his comment on my last fic "It runs in the family". 
> 
> I hope it doesn't disappoint, and that you will enjoy it :)

There are events that have an impact on the community. These events affect everyone, be they good and joyful, or evil and sad. It is not uncommon to see them on the front page of the newspapers, the public loves the news, and the slightest opportunity to make the headlines on television brings a cloud of journalists to the scene of the event, of the moment.  
Today, and for the past week, a crowd of journalists gather every day in front of the Lamare & Doorman notary's office to re-enact this sordid affair in Gotham, which shook the city's population both with terror and relief. The murder in the streets of Roman Sionis.

The man was known to be corrupt and highly dishonest but still. This kind of case left no one indifferent. Some were sad for him, after all, even if he was bad and crooked, he didn't deserve to end up like this. Others rejoiced, openly admitting that they thought the city would only be better off.  
The last part of the population, who had an opinion on the circumstances of Roman Sionis' death, was divided into two categories. The first was composed of men as unscrupulous as the infamous Roman had been in his lifetime, and essentially wanted to get their hands on his financial empire. The second category saw an opportunity  
in the tragic disappearance of Sionis, and watched for a sign of life from his now orphaned sons, to attract them to themselves.

Sweet Gotham. Your dishonest people do you credit.

The press was therefore making a lot of noise about the death of one of Gotham's most prolific businessmen. The drama, repeated over and over again on television and in the newspapers, did not, however, satisfy all the questions asked by the citizens of this sordid city. Indeed, the most widespread question on the lips of the Gothamites was the only one that the press had never mentioned: what had happened to the sons of Roman Sionis?  
Neither Richard, the eldest, nor Jason, his younger brother, had been seen or spotted since their father's murder. As the GCPD could not stay away from such a case, the investigators naturally suspected the businessman's sons of being at the origin of the murder, but quickly the suspicions were lifted, despite the complete absence of the two young men in the media or their usual circles.  
Rumours were spreading, and more than one person thought that, completely devastated by their father's death, the two young men had isolated themselves to grieve. 

Sweet Gotham. Your citizens can be so naive. 

The truth was far from what one could have imagined. 

The bigwigs of Gotham had had their eye on the transaction between Sionis and Wayne for several months, and despite the headlines about Roman's murder, they were able to get their hands on an article about the planned sale of the Wayne family's section of the port to the murdered businessman.  
The article was short and gave little detail on the transaction in question, but it ruled that following the sudden death of one of the two parties involved, and the fact that Roman's heirs did not claim their father's property, the sale of the harbour had been cancelled.  
Many saw this as an opportunity, and contacted Wayne to find out if it was possible to take Sionis' place in the transaction. 

Wayne Enterprises' Public Relations Department, along with Bruce Wayne and his sons, had remained silent when the press wanted answers about their state of mind on the case. Jason had been kept out of sight at the mansion, under the supervision of Alfred who was doing his best to keep the young man in the almost catatonic state in which he had fallen following his father's death and his brother's disappearance. 

Bruce knew very well why the eldest of the Sionis sons did not appear in public, and especially why he had never tried to get in touch with his brother.  
Dick had been the payment for his father's murder. Deathstroke had been difficult to convince. He wanted Jason in exchange of Roman's death, after all Jason had been his first contact with the Sionis family, and he had caught Wilson's eye and he did not want to leave without having laid his hands on the young man's naked body one last time.  
The negotiations took several weeks and finally an agreement was reached. Dick would now be Deathstroke's property, replacing his brother, provided that, once Roman's death was confirmed, Wilson could use Jason one final time. 

Roman was dead and Dick had been delivered by Bruce's men to Wilson.  
Roman's eldest son had not yet had the "chance" to enjoy the hospitality of his new master. The latter wanted to rid him of his addiction by subjecting the young man to a short withdrawal phase by administering high doses of N-acetylcysteine, which caused anxiety attacks in the young man already panicked by his near future, accompanied by fairly classic withdrawal symptoms: sleep disorders, fatigue, psychomotor agitation, increased appetite, and difficulty to focus.  
Dick was isolated in a room adjacent to Wilson's room until his body was healthy again. The weeks had passed, and Dick was getting better and better. He had gone through a brief period of depression but Wintergreen, a friend and clearly Deathstroke's servant, had done what was necessary to get the young man back on track. Richard Sionis, was doing better, and despite a slightly apathetic state, Slade Wilson could now count on his fingers, the number of days he still had to wait before he could visit his captive and honour him properly.  
He may have had extreme patience, but it had its limits and he now wanted to be able to enter without restraint into the young and malleable body that was held so close to him. 

But first of all, he was going to remind Wayne that he had to make one last visit to Jason. He wouldn't take full possession of Dick until he had breeded his brother one last time. 

On the day Wintergreen declared Dick ready to be visited, Deathstroke went to Wayne Manor, taking all the necessary precautions. Bruce's sons were still on vacation, and no one would be present except Bruce himself, his butler who had been the guarantor of his master's greatest sins, and Jason, his prize.  
Alfred had installed the hit man in the ground floor parlour, so that no one could know about their guest's presence if anyone ever made an impromptu visit to the mansion.  
It was a rectangular room, which had been furnished along its length. As you entered the room, you could see part of the gardens on the left, through the large windows partially hidden by thinly veiled curtains.  
The hit man had taken his place in one of the comfortable armchairs and leather, and was observing the decoration from another time until the door opened and made way for Jason.  
The young man had an empty look and did not smile when he saw Deathstroke, something he had done the last two times they had seen each other.  
Jason's sight alone triggered a wave of desire in Wilson who stood up and approached the young man who put a hand on his chest.  
"Not here. "The older of the two was surprised for a moment before Jason took him by the hand and led him to the second floor after crossing the ballroom that gave access to the parlour, the south entrance of the mansion, and the south foyer. Arriving at the top of the stairs, Jason pulled him behind him through the corridor of the south wing, passing in front of the door of Bruce's apartments without stopping, and let them into a room just next door.  
This one was on the corner of the mansion, and on two walls had gigantic windows which, like those of the parlor, were partially hidden by a thin veil, which allowed the golden light of the early afternoon to pass through. 

"Whose room is this? "Jason turned around and watched Wilson for a moment before taking a look around. "This is supposed to be my room. I don't sleep there. Bruce doesn't want me to..." Wilson gave a mocking smile when Jason didn't finish his sentence. Obviously, the young man had never set foot in what was supposed to be his room. The hit man was willing to bet that the only place Jason was allowed to rest was Wayne's bed after he was finished with him.  
"Do you know why I'm here? »  
The young man nodded and began to undress without Wilson even having to tell him. Slade watched him do it, he was obviously used to getting rid of his clothes quickly and efficiently, and he felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw Jason's naked shape standing in the middle of the pile of clothes on the ground. Jason headed towards Slade who had approached one of the windows and stood by him waiting as he was ordered, for the hitman to take matters into his own hands.  
"See the silhouettes behind the service grid over there? "Jason approached the window a little closer and looked towards the gate Wilson was pointing at. "They are journalists. Wayne manor always has one or two journalists nearby, it's the Wayne curse, they are Gotham's darlings, and everything is good to publish when it concerns them. "Jason looked the other way and wanted to get away from the window, but Deathstroke grabbed him by the arm and pressed him against the pane, the cold glass against the young man's chest, causing a shiver of discomfort.  
"Do you know that with your father's death you won't be able to get out of here? No walks in the garden, no public appearances, nothing. You're condemned to stay here at the mansion and serve as Wayne's whore until he gets tired of you, and sells you to the highest bidder. »  
Jason closed his eyes and tried to block Slade's humiliating words, who with his free hand released his erection. He pressed against the young man, and rubbed against him for a few minutes before moving back slightly and sticking a finger into Jason's warm cavity. With pleasure, he realized that the young man was already ready to be used. "I see Wayne has thought of everything. Even if I wouldn't have minded taking you dry and seeing you cry like the whore you are. »  
Slade grabbed his cock with his free hand and lined up with Jason's entrance, into which he slowly sank to the hilt. The body underneath him shook but emitted no sound, his gaze riveted on the silhouettes of the journalists on the outside.  
"Don't worry, you little cunt, they can't see you getting fucked like the slut you are from here.  
The hit man started a brutal back-and-forth movement that made the slamming of their flesh resonate in the room and caused Jason's exclamations of pleasure.  
The young man was still pressed against the glass and his breathlessness left traces of fog on the window. Slade's hands on his hips were burning and every time the killer pushed back into him, he could feel the length of his cock sinking into him. His hands resting against the glass tightened when Slade, dangerously approaching his orgasm, increased his pace and after a couple of aborted thrusts, emptied himself deep into Jason's depths in a satisfied growl.  
The young man was still hard when Slade pulled out, wiped himself and rearranged himself. 

"I really have to say that Wayne played his game well. But I'm not doing too badly either. I had the pleasure of taking you one last time before I went to visit your brother. »  
Jason had slipped to the ground and turned his head towards Slade only when the hitman mentioned his older brother. A mocking smile spread on Deathstroke’s lips when he noticed the young man's disoriented look.  
"Didn't Bruce tell you? Dickie is in my possession. He is now weaned, and he will, as soon as I return, have the honour of welcoming me daily between his legs. He is the payment Bruce gave me for the murder of your beloved Daddy." 

Slade then turned and left the room, without a look for Jason who had remained prostrate on the ground.  
It was Bruce Wayne who found him, still naked and the back of his thighs stained with Wilson's sperm. "You gave my brother to Slade." The businessman stopped a few steps from Jason and observed him for a moment.  
"Your brother is a slut who never had any respect for himself. He spent most of his life under cocaine getting fucked by the first one to cross his path, and wishing that you and your father would be the love of his life. Someone like Deathstroke is perfect for him. He will bring him sobriety, and in a sense a certain stability. Stability that he has always been lacking. » 

Jason didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Bruce's justifications were ridiculous, his father was dead, his brother was going to end up like him, a whore constantly on his back taking miles of dick a day. Even with their father and his overflowing sexuality, they had rest periods. Bruce was an animal.  
Jason got up and headed to the bathroom next to the chamber to wash and get rid of the rest of Slade's fluids. When he was clean and dry, he went back to the room, and found Bruce sitting on the bed waiting for him. The businessman watched his toy get dressed again and then stood up to draw him towards him, passed his arms around Jason's waist, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses along the young man's throat.  
"You are mine. No one can do anything for you anymore. Your father is dead, your brother in Wilson's hands. You only have me."

Bruce put his right hand behind Jason's neck and pulled him into an aggressive kiss. "Try not to forget it."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The death of Roman Sionis had brought with it the separation of Dick and Jason. In the panic that followed the shots that caused his father's collapse on the ground, Dick the eldest had no time to react or understand what was going on around him.  
His brain had stopped and the only thing he had been able to see was Roman crashing to the ground. It only took a few minutes for him to be seized, dragged, locked in an unmarked car, and transported away from the crime scene. In shock, he had not fought or protested when his hands were tied, nor when a blindfold covered his eyes, preventing him from seeing where his captors were taking him. 

It had taken him some time to understand what was happening to him, and it was only when Deathstroke's face appeared in front of him, in this completely unknown living room, that he was able to grasp the meaning of what was happening. He had been kidnapped and Slade's words did not immediately make sense.  
The elimination of Sionis? No. His father was immortal. He was powerful and dangerous, the people of Gotham feared him and no one would have dared to attack him. No one.  
It took him several weeks, the weeks that served to rid his body of the fetid remains of his favorite drug, for him to get used to the idea that his father was no longer of this world and that it was unlikely, if not impossible, that he would ever see his brother again.  
Jason. He missed Jason. He wanted to be able to touch him, and fall asleep against him. He wanted to be able to put his arms around his little brother and kiss him, cry in the hollow of his shoulder and feel protected. He wanted Jason to take him like last time, just before he left to go to Wayne's and disappear from his life.  
He had hated Bruce Wayne with all his soul. He hated what this man and his selfish act had provoked: Roman's anger, Dick's despair, and above all Roman's constant search for Jason through Dick's body, who had never stopped playing on the resemblance between the two brothers to satisfy his frustrated passions.

Slade had been clear on one particular subject from the beginning: Richard's addiction had to go.

Even though it had been in place for years and was more of a psychological than a physical state, symptoms of withdrawal had appeared and left the young man sweating, moaning and in pain for days and days. The ordeal seemed insurmountable to him at first, but with Wintergreen's care and Wilson's lack of pity, the crises had passed and Dick had regained a semblance of calm. The process had taken several weeks and the days had seemed to never end, but towards the end, when he woke up, the pain was less present and the feeling that his body didn't belong to him gradually disappeared.

Dick had to know that one day he should have gone through it. His father had threatened him several times to send him to rehab to get rid of his bad habit, as he liked to call it. He had never done it before and only Roman's death had allowed someone to take over and force him to wean himself off. He knew perfectly well that Slade's objective was not disinterested and his withdrawal period had prevented him from grieving. Grief that now hit him hard.

The first week of lucidity he had spent after coming out of his periods of transes and cravings, he had spent it crying and moaning. He had been violent, or at least tried to be, because his physical condition did not allow him to do much more than inflict minor scratches and bites. He hated Wintergreen and he hated Slade. But once again, he hated Bruce even more than the other two combined.

On the morning of the day beginning his second week of lucidity, he caught a conversation outside the room in which he was confined in. Wilson's friend, who had played nurse for him, told the hit man that he would now be able to visit the young man.

Dick wasn't stupid, not completely stupid anyway, and he knew very well what it meant. However, he did not expect the response from his abductor.

Slade's visit to Wayne's house to say goodbye to his brother had renewed his rage. Jason was still trapped in the hands of the man who had dared to take his father's life and destroy his family.

He was powerless in the current situation, and it only reinforced his hatred against the businessman and the hired gunman who had bought him. He remained what he had always been, a product.

He had been able to hear what he assumed was the entrance door close and Wintergreen's steps approach. The bedroom door did not open immediately and he sat on his bed, legs under the sheets, rethinking about the conversation he had heard. When his nurse finally unlocked the door to enter, Dick looked up at the man standing in the door frame and simply observed him.

Wintergreen sighed and closed the door behind him, before moving into the room to store the clean sheets he was holding in his arms.

"Slade's out, he'll be back in a few hours. If I were you, I'd enjoy this moment of peace. It won't last long." 

Dick snorted, bitter. "Because I am ready to receive a visit from His Majesty Wilson? Please, it's a complete joke. I'm clean, so what difference does it make? He would have ended up in that room whether I was clean or still a junkie, it wouldn't have changed the situation."

Wintergreen did not answer the young man. His mere presence in the house disturbed him. He was uncomfortable with the fact that Slade had accepted Bruce Wayne's deal. As much as Roman's younger son could have been trained to be something else than a whore, this one could not. This one would still be a slut, a hole designed only for the pleasure of others, and the others would now only be Deathstroke.

The sheets stored and Dick's physical condition checked, the hitman's friend stepped out of the room and left the young man alone. A little peace before the storm. Yes, it would only do him good to prepare for his future life. What a waste when you think about it, a whore in Slade's hands and a potential soldier left in Wayne's hands. Life had a very dark sense of humour sometimes.

The day went by slowly, and Dick slept most of the time. Sleep had the inimitable power to shorten the days and prevent him from thinking about what terrified him. He knew for a fact that he was only a second place in a competition that no one ever won. Sleep was a good way out.

Around 6pm, Slade came home. His day had gone better than he expected. He had thought he would find Wayne ready to go back on his word but was pleasantly surprised to find that this was not the case. Jason had been welcoming and had let himself be taken care of as promised. However, he regretted that the man had lost his character. Wayne had plenty of time to bend him to his wishes. Wilson put his keys in a small plate next to the entrance as he joined his friend in the living room and sat next to him on the couch.

"I guess your visit to Wayne's Mansion went well? " With a satisfied smile, Slade nodded. "I don't know what you have planned for him, but Richard is now clean. The most complicated thing will be to keep it that way." Deathstroke sighed and turned his head towards his friend. "It will be difficult for him to fall back into his dirty habits by not leaving the house. The freedom and lack of supervision Roman gave his son was the cause of his destructive behaviour. I don't intend to make the same mistake. He will stay here and learn to live here for the rest of his life. And until he accepts the fact that from now on he will be the body I chose to warm my bed, he will remain locked in his room. He won't get out before then."

Wintergreen bit his lip and looked up at the ceiling, as if he could see through the floor, directly into their guest's room. "Let's hope for him that he gets used to it quickly."

When Dick woke up, the day had been up for a while. There was not a sound in the house and he decided to lie there with his eyes closed.

The night before, he had heard the voices of his two jailers on the ground floor, and a wave of stress had overwhelmed him. He was telling it to himself quite often, but he knew why Slade was keeping him here and the hit man taking action was only a matter of time. He'd done this before. Lying down and taking a dick in the ass by the first man who came along, but this time it was different. It was neither his choice nor his father's order. And he didn't want Slade on him or in him.

His breath sped up at the idea of the killer's warm skin against his own, his breath against his throat, his sperm in him.

Dick put his hand on his throat, a wave of nausea twisting his stomach. He didn't want that.

Steps approached the door of his room and Slade entered, closing the door behind him. Roman's son was lying on his bed, obviously awake but keeping his eyes closed. He was pale and a thin film of sweat covered his forehead. Wilson's appetite woke up when he saw the lying body. He wasn't Jason, but he'd do a lot of good, now that he was clean.

Deathstroke approached the bed, sat on the edge, and leaned forward towards the young man, placing his right hand against the mattress next to Dick's left shoulder. "Hello pretty bird, it's time for us to get to know each other. »

The young man lying there did not move. His mind had cleared when he guessed it wasn't Wintergreen who was coming to visit him. The way the door had been opened was different. His thoughts had been replaced by a litany of no's, which turned in a loop in his mind but never reached his lips. Slade leaned a little further forward, examining Dick's face, taking his time to compare his features with those of his brother. He had higher and more defined cheekbones, thinner lips, a less square jaw and longer eyelashes. The hit man took off his gloves and grabbed Roman's eldest son's chin between his fingers. "Open your eyes and look at me. »

Dick's heart rate had increased and when he felt the pressure of his jailer's fingers getting stronger against his skin, he obeyed. He had to blink several times because of the ambient light but eventually kept them open, towards the ceiling, carefully avoiding crossing Slade's eyes. "I said, look at me. " Repressing an anxious moan, the young man turned his eyes away from the ceiling and directed them towards the one who was holding him prisoner, always avoiding looking him in the eye, but rather focusing on a point in the middle of his face.

Slade seemed satisfied and continued to observe Dick for a moment. Their eyes were also very different. Dick's were much more lively and brilliant. The blue hue, more pronounced. And yet they were as beautiful as his brother's. For obvious reasons, Slade had a fixation on eyes and he liked Dick's eyes. At least if he were to be violent with the young man, the younger male would have the satisfaction of knowing that his eyes would never be touched or damaged.

Deathstroke admired Dick for a while. Now that all drugs were out of his system, his reactions would no longer be artificial, they would be raw and honest. And he wanted to see them all. And at that precise moment he wanted to make fear, panic, pain and finally pleasure appear in turn on his face.

He doubted that he would be able to have pleasure drawn on Dick's features today, but over time..... He could already imagine him arching his back under him, his mouth open, shivering with pleasure, his eyes glazed with pleasure, panting. Soon.

But in the meantime, Slade had a painful erection that required prompt attention. He got up and began to undress, under the gaze of the young man still lying on the bed. "Take off your clothes. You don't need your clothes for what's to come. " Dick wanted to say no but his throat was tied, he couldn't formulate his refusal and didn't make a sound when Slade, finally naked and hard in front of him, grabbed him by the arm and made him sit on the bed. "I said undress, or I'll take care of it for you." With trembling hands, Dick first took off his thin cotton top, then put his feet on the ground and stood up to face Slade who watched him take off his pajama pants. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. The contract killer passed his hand along Roman's son's exposed flank, then grabbed his neck to draw him to himself and kissed him fiercely, marking his property on the young man's body, biting his lip to blood before letting him go. Deathstroke grabbed Dick by the throat and forced him against the bed, on his back, kneeling between his legs. Dick turned his head to the side, his eyes staring at the wall, while Wilson raised his hips to make it easier to access his hole. The thigh muscles of Roman's eldest son's thighs tensed when a finger penetrated him, initiating a slow circular movement to begin to prepare him. To Slade's surprise, Dick let him, and did not emit a sound, barely a hashed inhalation when the killer added a second, then a third finger, before starting a plunger movement to open the way for him. Wilson took his hand off, bent down to the ground to get the tube of lubricant he had left in his pants, let a generous dose pour over the opening in front of him and coated his cock with it as well. It was when he positioned himself to penetrate the young man that the latter seemed to come out of his torpor. "No. Leave me alone. I don't want to! You can't do that! " Dick started to get agitated, he tried to get away from Slade with all his strength, kicking, and flailing his arms until the hit man slapped him in the face and half sounded him, leaving the young man with a metallic taste in his mouth. "No." Richard tried to get up and Slade grabbed him by the throat. "I will not be your whore. Leave me alone. LEAVE ME ALONE!". Deathstroke slapped him a second time, which made him fall back like a stone against the pillow.  
"Stay still or it will only be more painful for you. » 

Slade, resumed his position between Dick's legs and lined up, letting out a sigh of anticipation before sinking into the warm cavity. Dick screamed and floundered around while Slade sheathed himself to the hilt in one go. Richard had not been sufficiently prepared to welcome Slade's cock, he was known to Jason to be particularly well built and the eldest of the Sionis sons despite the number of cocks he had already been able to take, had never had such a big and hard one in him. The hit man growled with satisfaction before putting his hand against the young man's mouth under him, to stifle his screams. Slade's hand quickly found itself soaked with Dick's tears whose screams of pain and frustration did not stop. Wilson waited a moment, enjoying the sensation of being fully buried in the young and supple body, before thrusting in and out quickly and suddenly. With his left hand on Dick's hip and his right hand covering the bottom of his face, Slade took full advantage of the defenseless body lying under him.  
He leaned forward to lie against the burning skin underneath him, covering Dick's body with his own and accelerated his already fast pace, cheasing his pleasure. His right hand left his victim's face and found Dick's hand, he entertwined their fingers in a mockery of tenderness as he continued to pound in the young man who begged him to stop.  
"I've been waiting to take you for over a month now. If you think it's your little scene or a little blood between your thighs that's going to stop me..." Slade changed his angle slightly and tore a new cry of pain from Dick, whose complaints were mixed with his screams and cries. "You can't do this to me! " Slade snorted. "I'm literally fucking your ass like it's the holy grail. Tell me exactly how I can't do this to you? "  
Roman's son continued sobbing, his left hand against Slade's chest, which had risen slightly, and tried weakly to push him away. Deathstroke's movements quickly became more erratic, less controlled, which revived Dick's panic. "No! No! NO! Not inside! Not inside! Don't come inside me for God's sake! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!" Slade, tired of his victim's pleas, placed his hand over the mouth of the body under him again so that he would no longer hear him complain. "I am going to breed you and you are going to love it, whether you want it or not. I'm going to empty my balls so deep inside you that you'll taste my sperm on your tongue, bitch.  
With an hoarse exclamation of pleasure, Slade ended up slamming his hips to Dick's ass and poured his seed into the deepest depths of the hot body that screamed under Wilson's hand, to the warm and moist feeling that he felt spreading inside him. 

Deathstroke withdrew and stood between Dick's thighs watching his fluids slowly flow out of the young man's gaping cavity. After a while, he finally got up and headed to the adjoining bathroom to take a shower and pull out a towel tied around his hips. Dick hadn't moved. He was still lying on the bed, legs spread apart, crying and hiccuping.

Slade picked up his clothes on the ground and walked towards the door, stopping for a moment before leaving. "Go wash up. Wintergreen will be coming to bring you your lunch. I'll come back to see you tonight. »

The bedroom door closed behind the hit man, leaving Dick alone in the bedroom. He remained motionless, unable to move for several hours. He was barely aware of Wintergreen's presence when he came to see him, washed him, dressed him and put him back to bed. He did not hear the words his nurse said, nor did he realize that he had put a tray with his breakfast next to his bed. Dick was no longer aware of what was around him, the only thing on his mind was the visit Deathstroke had made to him. He didn't eat, didn't drink, didn't move, didn't want to sleep. He was reliving the attack he had suffered. Slade on him, in him, his sperm released in him. He wanted to throw up.

After crying, exhausted, he finally fell asleep without realizing it, only to be woken up by the door that opened and Wilson invited himself back into his room. Dick closed his eyes and could not help but cry again as Deathstroke approached his bed undoing his belt.

The first five months after Dick's detoxification had been difficult, but Wintergreen had been on the lookout and had managed to ensure that the young man survived psychologically from his friend's repeated attacks on the young man. The contract killer's libido was commensurate with his activity and he calmed his excess adrenaline that followed each contract and mission between the thighs of the late Roman Sionis' eldest son. Dick's days were all alike, he woke up, went to the bathroom, put on clean pajamas, ate what Wintergreen brought him, read, slept, and feared the moment Slade would open the door to his room. At first he struggled, shouted, cried and begged. Each time, his jailer ended up inside him, and each time the feeling made him want to vomit his guts out. Now he had stopped fighting. Daethstroke always won and Dick always ended up with the hit man's dick up his ass, screaming at him to stop.  
His life would not change. There would remain the killer's ball and socket until he got tired of it or killed him by accident. He thought about it from time to time, about how it might make him feel if one day he was killed in the middle of coitus. He doubted that Slade would realize it until he came in him and pulled out. 

Dick rubbed his fingertips on the bite marks that decorated his throat and sighed. It had been almost two and a half weeks since Deathstroke had gone on a mission abroad, and he had no more books to read in his nurse's library. He looked at the door and thought that sometimes wished he could get out of the room in which he was locked, and in which he would certainly die. He knew nothing about the house he lived in. He had only seen the living room the day his father died, and then... his room. This damn room.  
He heard the muffled sound of the house's front door opening and closing. Wintergreen must have come back from the groceries.  
When he was still free, he loved shopping day. Every week, Roman, his father, would tell the guy who was buy-in their food to buy a ton of cereals. He missed his cereals. He sighed and climbed onto the small desk that Wintergreen had set up a week earlier and sat there, facing the window to observe the outside that had a view over a small courtyard with a garden and trees. He wondered how his brother was doing. He knew from his kidnappers that Jason was still in Wayne's possession, and that Wayne was always more humiliating his younger brother. He had even seen a video of Jason being taken by Wayne in the private elevator that led directly to Bruce's office in Wayne Tower. Slade had recovered the footage only to break his spirits. He had succeeded. 

One hand rested on Dick's right shoulder. He had not heard the door of his room open and close. He had also not heard the person behind him arrive.  
He turned slightly to see who was there and looked up at Slade's face, his beard stained with blood, and his face dark. Holding a sigh, the young man turned around completely and climbed down from the desk. Deathstroke remained silent and grabbed Dick by the arm, turning him abruptly, pushing him violently face first against the desk, before eagerly pulling his pants down at mid-thigh. Richard closed his eyes, crossed his arms under his head and pressed his closed eyes against his forearms.  
Slade opened his pants, and took out his hard cock before roughly preparing the young man and suddenly penetrating him, knocking the desk against the wall every time he hammered into Dick. The sleeves on the young man's pyjama top quickly became wet with tears and he wished he had never crossed paths with the man who had originally adopted him. 

When Wintergreen came home from the groceries, he put the bags on the table in the middle of the kitchen, and went up the stairs to the first floor to see how Dick was doing. When he arrived in front of the door, he stopped, halted by the sound of the repeated blows of the desk against the wall, and the growls of pleasure that were filtering through the door. He turned around just as the blows became more sharp and a scream of pleasure indicated that his friend had finished.  
Perfect. He would be downstairs in a few minutes and Wintergreen would have some time to prepare a proper meal for himself, his friend and their prisoner before Slade decided to go back to the room to relieve his cravings.  
On second thought, Jason wouldn't have been a good option, Dick was really ideal for Slade. A warm and welcoming hole, which had already been broken by his father years earlier. A real slut just good to be filled by a merciless hit man.


End file.
